Go With the Flow

Originally published on Artist Soapbox on 30 September 2019

Greetings, Soapboxers!

Brass tacks, y’all: I am FIRED UP. Motivated. Here to work. Ready to roll up my sleeves and get into it. Can you feel it? This electric pulse of inspiration and creativity? That’s the current state of affairs in this corner of ASBX-land. We’re on a whole new thing now, kids, and the message is: “I’ve been in the corral, waiting for race time. You gonna let me run? Because I’m ready.” Mara Thomas, reporting for duty.

Quite a 180 from this summer’s more subdued topics — the Creative Vacuum and the Gifts of Loneliness. How did I get here from there? Sometimes things come along that shake up your day-to-day to such a degree that you find yourself on new ground. For me, what flipped the table on my navel-gazing were some recent experiences that connected me with flow, the zen-like state where time stops and you’re completely immersed in the task at hand. I have been having a hard time connecting to flow with my writing. However, you know where I almost always feel connected to flow? Playing music.

Have you experienced creative flow? Where you are so into what you’re doing that you don’t realize several hours have flown by? Where the project is so engrossing that you don’t even think to stop and eat or take a break? That’s flow, my friends. Flow researcher and psychologist Mihály Csíkszentmihályi popularized the term and identified ten factors that accompany a flow state, including:

  • Concentration and focus
  • Losing feelings of self-consciousness
  • Losing track of time
  • Complete focus on the activity itself
  • Participating in an intrinsically rewarding activity

Let’s look at that last one more closely.  An “intrinsically rewarding activity” sounds to me like the “Make Pots” theory we’ve talked about before on this blog — that the pursuit is valuable for its own sake. That there is value in the doing of the thing, regardless of any outcome. Plus, the more you do the thing, the better you will become at doing the thing and the more fun you can have playing around with the thing as your skill level and confidence grow. In other words, immersing yourself in a task you enjoy can lead to flow. I have felt flow with running, with gardening, with cleaning, and I invariably feel flow when I practice and perform with my band Cold Cream.

Cold Cream rocking out at Hopscotch 2019. Photo by Cory Rayborn.

Cold Cream is my first experience as a band’s dedicated vocalist. In previous bands, I always played an instrument in addition to singing and frequently felt like I wasn’t performing optimally at either. Now, though, I can focus all my efforts on the vocals, connecting with the message of the songs, tuning into what my bandmates are doing, and fire-hosing that energy out into the crowd. I can tap into something deep inside of me — this is rage, let’s be real — and channel it to serve the music. It’s incredibly cathartic and I feel completely removed from my self-critical nemeses, perfectionism and comparison. The focus and energy it takes to perform don’t leave room for anything else.

Have I mentioned it is also incredibly fun? It is! Once we start playing, it’s all I want to do. What’s more, I can feel the residual effects of these flow states for several days and it’s giving me more confidence with song-writing, something that has been a major creative roadblock for me for nearly 15 years. That confidence is spilling over into rewrites for my play, YEAR OF THE MONKEY, a process that has been dogged with perfectionism. My attitude in this moment is, “Go for it. Give it all you’ve got and don’t look back.”

Creativity is at my doorstep. It’s making its presence known in a big way. Were I not buoyed by these recent flow experiences, I might feel overwhelmed or unsure or make some excuse not to answer the call. Having such a potent source of flow in my life truly makes me feel like so many things are possible. I’m ready to grab the reins and hold on.

We’d love to hear about your experiences with flow! Drop us a line at artistsoapbox@gmail.com. It’s always great to hear from you.

‘Til next time,
MT

P.S. See and hear Cold Cream in this video by Dave Schwentker from Hopscotch 2019.

Preparing for a Creative Residency

Originally published on Artist Soapbox on 8 April 2019

Greetings, Soapboxers!

Spring is springing in our neck of the woods. New growth and new opportunities are on the way and, in keeping with my January intention, I am leaning into the excitement and wonder of it all (with, let’s be real, a garnish of panic).

This spring I am participating in something brand-new to me: Creative Residencies. Wondering what the heck that is? Well, that makes two of us! Broadly speaking, a residency is an opportunity to trade in the day-to-day grind for a few days or weeks of focused, intentional time to work on your creative project. Often this involves going to a remote location.

I’m excited to share that I will be participating in residencies with Drop, Forge & Tool in Hudson, NY and the Turkey Land Cove Foundation in Edgartown, MA. Why apply for a residency? In my case, I’m developing my latest play via a long-distance collaboration. My NYC-based partner thought a residency could be a fantastic opportunity for us to be in the same place at the same time and dig into the project in a deep and meaningful way.

Personally, I thought it sounded way too good to be true and thus unlikely ever to happen. In this case I am perfectly happy to have been proven wrong. In retrospect, I’m actually grateful for my initial doubt because it allowed me to approach the applications with a nothing-to-lose, go-for-it mindset rather than letting my buddies perfectionism and comparison restrain me.

The application process involved, among other things, sharing our project and goals with the organizations. They want to know how applicants will use their time and what they will have to show for it once the residency is complete. This pushed me to think more broadly about the script and the production as a whole — what needs to happen to move it closer to reality and how can we leverage this uninterrupted time to make progress towards that?

In preparation for the residencies, my partner and I drafted a long list of goals. My mind is boggling a little bit thinking about this ambitious list. But I’m excited. Our goals are rather detailed, yes, but I feel we have left ourselves plenty of room to breathe and discover and stretch and create. Will we accomplish every item? Probably not. Will we discover things we hadn’t yet considered? Almost assuredly. In this moment, I am so grateful for the residencies’ gift of the truly precious commodity of time. I know we will make good use of it.

Residencies are available throughout the country, for all sorts of endeavors. Have you participated in a residency? We’d love to hear about it. Please drop us an email at artistsoapbox@gmail.com and share your experience.

Looking forward to reporting to you from the other side of this journey!

‘Til next time,
MT

Writing the Perfect MONKEY

Originally published on Artist Soapbox on 30 July 2018

Greetings, Soapboxers!

Earlier this month, several friends and collaborators gathered to read and hear the latest draft of my upcoming play, YEAR OF THE MONKEY. If you’ve ever put your work-in-progress up for critique, you know it is a singularly excruciating, insecurity-stoking and necessary experience. I clawed my way to that draft and now, armed with lots of helpful notes and personal revelations, it’s time to revise.

Great. I can’t stand this part.

I knew this was coming, but I’m annoyed anyway. Why am I making such a big deal out of this? I’ve got a lot of great feedback to plow into this thing but I feel angry and scared and, honestly, I have been so frustrated over this project that I have contemplated quitting several times.

Ah, perfectionism. My old friend.

At several points along the way, this project has felt like I’m using a tweezers to build a sandcastle. Thomases, by birthright, are unapologetically verbose yet I have no access to this endless supply of words. When I sit down at the keyboard, out come the tweezers. Why? Because I want it to be “right.” Because I want it to be “good.” Because I want to turn it in and never have to do it again because it took so much out of me the first time. Because perfectionism is my beast. Perfectionism would rather stop me before I start. Perfectionism would rather I edited my work and myself into non-existence rather than pick up that bucket and fill it with sloppy, wet sand.

Cue the irony.

After the script read-thru, two different people remarked that a few of the scenes felt unnecessarily short and they could tell I was editing myself. I had been so focused on cutting away anything I deemed extraneous (exposition, talkiness – bad!) that I didn’t leave enough substance to establish some of the objectives and relationships. Their advice? Haul ass and go for it. Fill up those buckets. Save the tweezers for later.

Sloppiness and precision both have their place in the process. Doesn’t sloppy sound more fun? I’m into it! At least in theory. This might be a “both/and” right now.

I know I will get to a space where I’m having more fun, feeling loose and making a joyous mess. But I also know there’s old pain at the root of the perfectionism and I want to make space for that. Pathologizing my stuckness isn’t helping me. Berating myself for not having more fun seems a tad counter-intuitive.

Maybe I’m not exactly where I’d like to be, but I am showing up. Every day. Maybe the words aren’t flowing like wine (note to self: BUY MORE WINE), but they’re coming. As I’ve told myself a thousand times, “Show up for the work and the work will show up for you.” Ugh, that sounds so smug I want to punch myself in the face.

This is eerily familiar. Perfectionism. Resistance. Finding ways to nourish yourself. Time to walk this talk.

‘Til next time, Soapboxers.
MT